


The Captain's Chair

by Koofins



Series: Dark Tide [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Budding Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/M, First Date, Malavai has more personality but this is told from the POV of the SW at first, Minor Character Death, Porn With Plot, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vette and Malavai's relationship is also less strained, will change rating later~
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9527954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koofins/pseuds/Koofins
Summary: After the tragic and dramatic confrontation with Moff Broysc, and finally coming to a different stage of their relationship, L'hana and Malavai finally reach a boiling point that could be the end, or the beginning. Malavai finds out just how memorable banging a Sith is, and L'hana finally gets to ride in the captain's chair. While the Captain is in the chair.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just going to start right off into smut but turned out to be a three (possibly four) part series leading up to the big event. The last two will probably contain the Sin everyone's here for, but before that, character development!
> 
> This takes place a little later in the story than I would have liked to get started, but I have these parts written, so might as well share them here. And who knows, after this, I might just finish the ENTIRE story rather than just the rough outline. (Maybe.)
> 
> Oh, and L'hana isn't fully human. But we'll get into that later.

\- - - -  
They were dancing around the plunge they both knew they would inevitably take. L'hana knew that part of it was Malavai's strict sense of duty, as well as his fear of discovery.

Truth be told, she didn't really relish the idea of Baras discovering her, either. Though she was no longer his Apprentice, he still had the final say-so in what she did, where she went. She was his agent, ultimately; his blade from where he worked in the heart of the Empire, that could reach and cut down any of his enemies. The fact that she was 'dallying with an underling' would displease him.

Which made it all the more enjoyable for her to keep pursuing, so long as she felt Malavai reciprocated her interests.

It had been weeks since the holo-transmission. Weeks since Malavai had returned from that last mission off the ship, off to aid Major Ovech when Moff Broysc had sent Ovech into the metaphorical lion's den. L'hana had felt flush with pride for the Captain when he'd returned, and reported his comrade and his remaining crew safe from the danger Broysc had thrown them into.

“Amazing job, Quinn,” she'd congratulated him as they patrolled the bridge. She smiled at him, happy to see the pride lighting up his eyes. “It's fortunate the Empire has you on its side.”

“You're too kind, my lord,” Quinn said, giving her a sheepish grin. “Regardless, it had to be done. Losing Ovech would have been a terrible blow to our forces. The Empire is stronger with the Major still leading at his helm.” There was a pause, and L'hana glanced around to see they'd reached the captain's chair, then back to see Malavai shifting nervously on the spot. “I want you to know how much I appreciate the opportunity to allow me to embark on this mission on my own. I know your own directive outranks mine, and that I am needed here.” He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he glanced away from her. An anxious gesture, she'd learned, when he found it difficult to sort through what was appropriate to say to her within earshot of others. “I should, erm.... I shall return to my duties immediately, by your leave, my lord.”

There had been a moment, only a few seconds that had seemed to stretch on into long and intense minutes as they watched each other closely. She could tell by the bunching and twitches along his shoulders that his hands were fidgeting behind his back as he stood before her in the 'at-attention' soldier's posture. A small part of her had wanted to reach out and touch him, to soothe his anxieties, the rest of the crew be damned. They both knew that their sudden intense focus on their own panels and readouts that the bridge crew were listening intently; it had been a highly popular topic whispered in the mess and private quarters for weeks.

She knew she hadn't been imagining things when Malavai's body leaned towards her, swaying forward ever so slightly with his chin ducked a fraction of an inch. With his height, if she lifted her own head and stood on the tip-toe, they might've been able to kiss each other.

But at the last moment, he'd shut his eyes tight, and jerked back into that stiff posture from before, offering a stiff nod before walking around her and moving to the navigational charts.

Weeks had passed since he'd even seemed close to touching her. L'hana sighed as she and Vette made the last leg of their journey through the space port to where their ship was docked. The twi'lek groaned in exasperation next to her, throwing her head back in a dramatic display.

“Ugh, just spit it out already, Hana,” she said, throwing her hands upwards and giving L'hana a look. L'hana bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hold back laughter as she attempted (and failed) to look innocent.

“Spit what out, exactly?” she quipped. Vette narrowed her eyes, turning them into bright green slits, and jabbed L'hana in the shoulder with a finger.

“You know,” she said, and sidled closer to L'hana, slinging an arm around her. “How you and Captain Barkybuns have been making eyes at each other and sighing for the past month. Tell ol' Vette aaaaall about it.”

“First of all, I'm older than you,” L'hana said, rolling her eyes as she twisted away from Vette's hold. “And secondly, there's nothing going on between me and Mala--...the Captain and I.”

“Riiiight,” Vette drawled, crossing her arms and flicking one of her lekku over her shoulder. “And I can breathe fire. Oh, did I mention I'm actually secretly the Supreme Emperor?” She uncrossed her arms and wiggled her fingers threateningly at L'hana. “Fear my wrath, pew-pew, zzzAP!”

“Oh Creator, _stop_ ,” L'hana gasped, having lost herself into a fit of laughter at 'I can breathe fire.' By the time they'd made their way up the loading ramp onto the ship, she was wiping tears from her eyes and couldn't stop laughing as Vette went on to describe her plans of galaxy-wide take-over.

“And everyone will have to wear pink every other weekend, all pink, not just a patch or something. If you're gonna show loyalty to your Supreme Emperor, go big, or go home.” She paused, her eyes narrowing on something just beyond L'hana in the loading bay of the ship. “Isn't that right, Quinny?”

“I've no time for your games today, Vette,” Quinn said. The tone of his voice stopped the last vestiges of mirth in L'hana's throat, and she turned to the Captain, her alarm piqued. He turned his attention to her, giving her a quick salute before he gestured for her to follow. “I'm afraid I have a situation that requires your personal touch, my lord.” For a moment she wondered if Quinn and her newest recruit, Lieutenant Pierce, had gotten into a scrap. She gave him a once-over as they strode through the bowels of the ship, and her eyes snagged on the pins on the front of his uniform.

“Wait,” she said, reaching up and catching his shoulder. Quinn's brows shot up towards his hairline as he stopped, turning towards her. Her hand lingered on his uniform, freshly ironed and warm from the wash. She wasn't quite sure how she'd managed to miss it, but over the normal uniform he wore was a greatcoat, the tails just barely brushing along the floor. The Imperial insignia for the rank of Captain emblazoned proudly on both shoulders, and the appropriate colored cords lined his sleeves. A grin slowly spread across her features, and she beamed up at the man's questioning stare. “Your papers finally went through? You've been promoted to Second Grade Captain?”

“I—well, yes,” he said, giving her a quick grin. The expression was shocked, and a little shy. Quinn ran a hand over his head, smoothing back his hair and glancing away from her. “Well, officially, anyway. I was promoted back to my station when you gave permission last week. I only just received my pins from HQ.” When his eyes met hers again, there was a silent question there, some part of him wondering what she thought as he tilted his head slightly towards her. “It is as you ordered...is it not?”

“Exactly as I ordered,” she said, beaming up at him. He let out a soft huff, and she could tell he'd been holding his breath as he chuckled and glanced down. “Second-Grade Captaincy looks dashing on you, Quinn.”

“I...thank you,” he said, earnestly, a blush faintly showing along his nose and cheekbones. No decorum weighed on his words, and when his eyes met hers again, she was keenly aware that this was the man, and not the uniform, that was watching her so intently. “Truly, I wouldn't be here were it not for you. In every sense of that statement.” Before either of them could say anything else, the tell-tale alarm of a holo-call went off in one of his greatcoat pockets. Malavai pulled it out, and the projected image of their communications officer flicked into view. The young woman looked nervous, but L'hana knew that Quinn was much changed from the officer he'd once been. Still, his reputation for how he treated underlings before she'd taken him in off Balmorra preceded him. “Yes, Officer Groman?”

“Its Moff Broysc again, Captain,” Groman said with a sharp salute. “He's threatening to pinpoint the location of our ship and have the port...er, 'blown away,' as he's said. Sir, he's actually managed to lock the controls for the ship down.”

“He can do that?!” L'hana asked. Groman's head snapped round towards her, and the hologram bowed hastily.

“Yes, ma'am,” the girl nodded. “My apologies. I wasn't aware you were back on the ship.” Her eyes darted between the Captain and L'hana, then back again, and L'hana could have sworn she thought she saw something close to mischief in the communication officer's eyes. “I hope I'm not interrupting....?”

“I was just about to brief Lord Prok on the situation, Groman,” Malavai said, a slight edge to his voice. Groman snapped to attention once more as Malavai urged L'hana to follow him deeper into the ship. “Put the Moff through to the main holocom. That will be all.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Seems you two have set some tongues wagging.” Vette's voice made both of them jump, and L'hana glanced at her over her shoulder to confirm that Vette had been following them the entire time. A blush warmed her skin, as she realized Vette had heard her congratulating Quinn. The cheeky grin Vette gave her confirmed this, and L'hana's head snapped forward again as she hastened her steps.

“Vette, this doesn't concern you.” Malavai's voice was tight, though she could tell from the slight defeat in his words that he knew she wouldn't listen. When Vette set her mind to something, there wasn't much that could convince her otherwise. Yet another change that Malavai had gone through, one that she was sure was more difficult for him than many others.

“Sure it does,” Vette said with a chipper voice, catching up with L'hana and slinging an arm around her shoulders. She gave L'hana a knowing smirk before grinning at Malavai over their shoulders. “Besides, I wanna see what the big fuss is about.” She paused, coming to a halt so suddenly that L'hana was stopped, too. “Aaaannd it looks like everyone else does, too.”

“They're nervous, Master,” Jaesa said, suddenly at her side. L'hana nearly jumped, turning to the apprentice as she appeared at L'hana's side. Her brown eyes seemed far away as she stared into the crowd. “This Moff has influence unbecoming of his military exploits. And those are....very lacking.”

“How he got so high up in the Imperial Military is beyond me,” L'hana grumbled as she looked back to what had stopped Vette so suddenly.

Crowded around the doorways that led into the main comm-room was most of the crew. L'hana felt a mounting sense of dread as she realized that every head was accounted for; even Pierce, who normally cared little for anything other than being sent down onto the field to mow down the Republic forces. The soldier nodded to her, giving Quinn a scathing glance before his mouth turned up to one side in a smirk.

“What, couldn't wait to show off the new duds? Fuckin' ponce.”

“Watch your tongue, Lieutenant,” Malavai said, curling his lip in a sneer. Though Pierce towered over most of the crew, the Captain seemed to pay it no mind as he cut a path through the crew to get in the larger man's face. “You're lucky I'm willing to brush this off due to stress over the ship's lock down, otherwise I'd have you fired out of the airlock for insubordination.”

“I'd like to see you try it, pencil pusher.”

“Enough,” L'hana snapped. Malavai's eyes were wide, clearly shocked as she stepped right up to the pair and stood between them. Her own features pinched in a snarl that she had no problem giving voice to, she felt the air around her surge and flare hot with energy. Pierce took a step back, holding up his hands in defeat. “You know better than to pick fights with those serving under you, regardless of the circumstances,” she said to Malavai, who nodded tersely, averting his eyes. The scoffing laugh that Pierce gave turned her blood molten, and she wheeled round to glare up at him. “And you,” she snarled, “show the Captain some respect, or _I'll_ be the one loading you into the airlock. Is that clear?”

“Aye, ma'am.” Pierce grunted. She didn't miss the glare he shot at Malavai just before she turned, but decided it wasn't worth pressing the issue. Not yet. She could feel the energy on the ship was anxious, as all eyes focused wholly on her.

“2V-R8,” she said, her voice clear and echoing through the eerily silent ship. The droid approached her quickly as she moved through the crew to the main com-room, followed closely by Malavai. She could sense Vette hovering by the door, the rest of the crew crowding on either doorway. “Bring me my cloak.”

“My Lord, we've yet to clean the bloodstains out. Are you quite certain?”

“Doubly so, now.” The grin that spread across her face was truly feral. She waited in silence, standing next to Malavai as the droid hurried to her quarters.

“Tell me what we're dealing with here, Quinn,” L'hana said softly.

Quinn went on to tell her how Broysc had been hailing the ship shortly after he'd saved Ovech. His messages had become increasingly enraged, and frequent. He'd been furious to find Malavai commanding the ship, his ravings bordering on insanity.

“Sounds like he's gone addle-brained,” L'hana said with a heavy sigh. At that moment, 2V-R8 returned with her cloak. L'hana took the heavy black garment and slid it on, lifting the hood over her head. The scent of dried blood jarred her memory to the fight on Tattooine, being pitted up against the Jedi Knight and his Apprentice while Malavai had lain unconscious and bleeding on the floor of the hut at her feet. If Broysc had his way, Malavai's life would have been snuffed out long before she'd even known he existed. That steeled her reserve as she nodded to the Captain, who patched through the current call from the Moff's ship.

The holo leaped to life, it's soft blue glow contrasting with the red lighting throughout the room. L'hana squinted up at the projected image of the elderly man, his eyes wide and glazed with mild cataract scarring. It seemed they'd picked the call up in the middle of a rant, and L'hana folded her arms within the wide sleeves of her cloak, tilting her head as she listened.

“...flew the coop! Your new cage will be smaller, and tighter! Coffin sized! Urn sized!! In a locket, I'll wear around my neck!” The man's words held conviction, but his words were that of a fool, L'hana quickly decided. Perhaps once, well before Quinn had served for him, Broysc had been a man who had truly earned his station. But as he spoke, she began to doubt her own sentiment.

“He's unlikely to stop, my lord,” Quinn mused beside her. “He didn't even know he was on hold.”

“Druckenwell proved my point!” the elderly Moff continued. “My glory is mine. Mine! You're nobody! Nothing, you scrawny little pup! Do you hear me?! I said, do you hear me?!”

L'hana remained silent, but could not remain still. She began to pace, practically prowling in front of the com hub as she watched Broysc. His whiskers bristled, spittle flying from his jowls as his words became more infuriated. Malavai remained where he was, one brow cocked upward; the expression looked practiced, and a little mocking. A smile tugged at her lips, as she wondered how many times Malavai had worn that same mask while Broysc had gone on his tirades when he'd been under the Moff's command.

“Where's my blaster,” Broysc snarled, jabbing a finger in Malavai's direction. “I'll shoot your face! Personally! And again! Druckenwell won't save you, the signal dampers on that blasted ship won't save you. I'll have my men on Balmorra blow the ship to pieces, d'you hear?! I could blow Balmorra away, I'll blow Balmorra away, this time!” He paused, his eyes narrowing when L'hana passed behind Malavai. “Wait. Gone? Where did he...no. But there's a Sith on this. Rodjnik, why'd you transfer me?! I'll have your sorry carcass shipped to Balmorra, too!”

“Rodjnik is his communications officer,” Malavai explained, his tone exasperated. L'hana glanced up to see Malavai pinching his nose again. “This is how it's been.”

“Rodjnik, am I through?! I'm through? Yes or no? I don't see, is this broken?! All I see is a Sith!”

“It's like a space collision,” L'hana mused, stepping forward so that the sensors could truly pick up and record her. “You can't help but watch the uncontrolled chaos unfold.”

“Wait, now,” Broysc said, some semblance of clarity reaching his voice, “I'm understanding this. You. It was you, Sith, wasn't it? You, who dared undermine my authority, and free the admiral of the shackles I placed on him? Have you lost your mind?!”

“Possibly,” L'hana mused, unable to stop herself from grinning under her hood. She glanced at Malavai. “Did he just call you admiral?”

“Yes, my lord,” Quinn responded. “He calls me 'Admiral Malcontent.' He seems to think that's my actual rank and name.” L'hana was certain that she saw Malavai rolling his eyes when she turned to face the Moff once more, as he launched into another tirade.

“Don't you know he's the one who lost the Battle of Talay?!”

“Broysc's first command,” Malavai intoned out of the corner of his mouth. “Before I was born.”

“It was his blunder that allowed the escaped Jedi target to flee Taris before the bombardment!”

“Ancient history. Broysc wasn't even born.”

“He sabotaged the Glory Space Station, for crying out loud!”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“I hear him,” the Moff snarled, “while I yet speak! His insubordination is lethal. Paralyzing! It threatens the very Empire. And you. Do. Nothing!”

“Broysc, do you understand what you're even saying?” L'hana asked after a pause. “You are the threat to the Empire here. Whatever you think is occurring, it is not so. You are not yourself. I implore you, step down. For the sake of the Empire.” _And before this headache gets any worse._

“I am _whole_ , Sith,” Broysc spat. “You see madness, where there is only passion to rid the galaxy of the scourge that stands against the Empire. Once it is eradicated, we'll all be fine.” He paused, his eyes narrowing at Malavai. “I order you, Sith, to deliver the admiral to me.”

“For what reason?” Her tone became unmistakably bored, and in response, the Moff's became enraged, almost desperate.

“Execution! Immediately! I order it, now! Are you listening?!”

“Do you know who you're speaking to, Moff?” L'hana asked, her voice slow and measured. A tightening, hot ball of anger roiled in her gut, and she could feel energy radiating off of her in waves. “Do you understand that, as a Darth Lord of the Sith, I have every right to declare you an enemy of my order, as befitting of my station?”

“You worm,” the Moff hissed. “You wouldn't dare!”

“Oh, but I would,” L'hana said. She lowered the hood, and beside her she heard Malavai's sharp intake of breath. She supposed she must look rather frightening, with Fury pulsating in her blood and causing her eyes to glow and eerie green. “I would dare. And if your crew does not see to it that the block on my ship is not lifted, immediately, then you shall all know why I am called Baras's Fury.”

“You would threaten me?! Rodjnik, cut the transmission--”

“I swear on my station and title as a Sith Lord, if you threaten me, or my crew again, I will hunt each of you down to the ends of the galaxy,” L'hana said. Her voice was still a low and even tone, if not cold. “Lift the restrictions, or it will begin _immediately_.”

“Rodjnik!”

“And let it be known, Moff,” she said, her eyes narrowing and locking onto the old man's. Somewhere, far off in the galaxy, she could feel his heartbeat flutter in his chest. The air around her crackled as she focused on the beating, and she knew he could feel her, her presence invading him deep into the marrow of his bones. “If you threaten the Captain again, _nothing_ will stop me from making sure it's the last mistake you make, you worthless scum.”

Anything else the man would have said was cut off by L'hana sharply jabbing a finger at the console, abruptly ending the transmission. A long silence fell, and L'hana struggled to control her erratic breathing.

Just as she thought she might have to make good on her threats, the ship began to hum, as its engines came back online. A sigh of relief left her in an instant, along with any ounce of ire left in her, and her shoulders sagged a little as she turned to the crew and grinned.

“You just threatened a Moff,” the navigational officer said, breaking the stunned silence.

“I just threatened a cantankerous old fool,” L'hana chuckled.

“She just threatened _the_ Moff,” another grunt hissed. Eventually, the entire crew began mumbling, their voices becoming more and more approving, elated, and a few let out quick whoops of excitement. L'hana grinned sheepishly as she turned to the crew, who gave her a wide berth as she made her way past them towards the forward navigational deck.

“Captain, let's be off,” she said, removing her robe from her shoulders as they walked. She didn't have to glance over to know he'd been at her side the moment she'd set into motion. There was comfort in that knowledge, but the fact that she was aware of it and comforted by it was slightly terrifying. L'hana shook the thoughts off as she handed the robes back to 2V-R8, only just managing to hide her disgust when she realized that some of the blood had left streaks on her blouse. “We'll head to Nar Shadaa. I have a contact there who needs some hired muscle.” She glanced at the crew as they headed to their respective stations, and frowned thoughtfully. “When's the last time they've all been off this ship, Quinn?” she asked at length.

“Three months, my lord,” the captain said, “not counting your ground forces. Though, I believe for those who joined you in the beginning, before you were able to hire your crew, it has been--”

“Way, _way longer_ ,” Vette piped up. L'hana covered her mouth to hide her amusement, though the glare that Malavai shot the twi'lek as she ducked into the lift for the quarters was less acidic than it normally was. Vette merrily wiggled her fingers at them both before disappearing.

“Well,” she said, smirking up at Malavai and raising an eyebrow. “We'll head to Nar Shadaa, and the crew will be given shore leave, while Jaesa—er, my Apprentice and I complete the mission I've been assigned.”

Quinn nodded, and began barking orders. L'hana wandered toward the lift, not having missed that her Jaesa had been trailing slightly behind her the entire time.

_Her_ apprentice. It was still something she was getting used to. Jaesa's presence on the ship was still something she was also growing accustomed to, as the younger woman would appear when she least expected her. She supposed that was a good thing. Jaesa only seemed to come when she was absolutely needed. It was difficult, trying to figure out where Jaesa fit into the strange puzzle that her life had become since become dedicated to the Empire. On gaining Jaesa's trust and permission from Baras to finish her training, she'd been given the title of a true Sith Lord.

With that title came even more sway in the galaxy than she'd had before. More than she'd actually been willing to act on, and likely ever would. As she glanced at Jaesa, she found the Jedi Padawan watching her out of the corner of her eye, and guessed that the young Jedi was likely trying to figure L'hana out. Instantly she snapped up her mental walls, and saw the younger woman flinch slightly.

“Sorry,” L'hana mumbled automatically, reaching out to steady Jaesa when she nearly stumbled. Jaesa shook her head, though she gratefully took L'hana's support as they made their way towards the lift.

“It's alright,” she admitted. “It's just...rare that anyone's been this resistant to my power.”

“It's not often someone tests me like you do,” L'hana admitted, smiling at Jaesa. Her apprentice smiled back, though her expression was still thoughtful. “Does that worry you?”

“No, it's not that,” Jaesa said, shaking her head minutely. She cast a glance over her shoulder, and L'hana followed her stare. “The Captain's worry is potent enough to make it difficult to get a read on anyone.”

“The Captain...?” L'hana echoed, her words trailing off as her eyes locked onto him. As ever, he stood at the helm, rather than seating himself in the captain's chair. Standing at parade rest, his hand clasping one wrist behind his back, she could see the subtle shift of his shoulder blades under the dark-gray uniform. He began to pace, and her eyes wandered down to watch his powerful legs, the military-issue black boots that landed on the deck with solid, authoritative 'thunks.' Her fingers curled into fists, her body warming as a wave of excitement washed over her.

“Yes,” Jaesa said, her voice clearly bemused, “the Captain. He looks rather dashing in his new uniform, doesn't he?”

She wanted to tell herself she wasn't blushing, but she could tell it was visible by the grin that Jaesa hid by ducking her head once they'd entered the lift.

“Let's just get this mission over with,” L'hana grumbled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People sometimes need something to believe in. Even the Sith, and especially the men and women who serve them. L'hana's crew are no different. Neither is L'hana.
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: Blood and Minor Character death

\- - - -  
It appeared that the Captain's concern over Flynn's contact did have _some_ grounds.

Unpredictable as ever, Flynn's cargo had been procured by extremely questionable means, and L'hana was meant to help keep the original owners of said cargo from blowing his ship into tiny pieces. They had managed, but only barely. Jaesa had been forced to half drag L'hana to the Imperial's medical base of operations, nearly bleeding out in the process herself.

No sooner had they gotten the all-clear from the medical droids did Vette appear, her green eyes snapping with barely contained anger.

“I leave you two alone for one hour,” she growled, jabbing a finger in L'hana's face. “One hour, and you nearly get yourselves killed. Just...guh!” Vette threw her hands towards the ceiling. “What is wrong with the galaxy today?! I'd _just_ started buffing my lekku, but _nope_ , guess Vette doesn't get a moment's rest, does she?”

“Vette, if you're going to be mad at anyone, you can thank Flynn for all this,” L'hana responded, running her hands through her dark, blood-streaked hair in frustration. “And how did you know we were here? I haven't even sent a report to the ship that everything is all clear.”

“Cap sent me to get you,” Vette said, and suddenly looked uncomfortable. L'hana felt a spike of alarm kick in her blood, sitting up and leveling Vette with a long stare. Her mind raced with possibilities; the ship had been attacked. A fight had broken out between Quinn and Pierce. Or Baras had finally decided that her methods of executing his orders were finally worth her death, and was waiting for her on the ship.

She didn't bother waiting for Vette to explain herself. Vette didn't seem to want to explain things, either, and she sensed both Vette and Jaesa following hot on L'hana's heels as she swiftly left the field hospital. Darting through crowds and dashing through the alleyways back to the hangar their ship was docked in, she sensed Jaesa following close behind, her powers stretching out to try and gauge the situation from where she was.

It was clear the instant she reached the hangar that the situation was not good. Imperial troopers swarmed the bay, blasters drawn as their commanding officers shouted out alarmed orders. Standing on one of the upper decks, she could see them headed towards the ship, her ship. She recognized Quinn standing before a small token force of her crew, his posture rigid as he squared off against the growing crowd of troopers.

Troopers that had their guns drawn and aimed at her people. At Quinn.

“Blast,” Vette swore, drawing her own blaster. L'hana's alarm funneled into a calm anger, the kind that made her bones feel frozen as she vaulted herself over the ramp's railing and aimed for the main deck, landing with a thunderous crash that she felt rattling in the roots of her teeth. Once Vette and Jaesa had reached her, the twi'lek smirked at her wryly. “Well that's one way to make an entrance. You've got eyes on you, Hana. What do we do?”

“Follow my lead,” she said, and glanced at Jaesa, who nodded and quickly pulled her hood up and over her head. L'hana rose to her feet slowly, satisfied that the bulk of the troopers that had turned their attention to her. Being a Sith and the presence that status commanded seemed to draw attention, which she desperately needed to be on her. As she turned her gaze at the security forces, her eyes narrowed. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, her voice loud enough to echo throughout the hangar. Any shouts from commanding officers stilled immediately, and they, too turned to face her. L'hana strode forward with purpose, chin held high as she made her way towards the soldiers. “You dare draw your weapons on the crew of a Sith Lord?!”

Mumbled oaths rippled through the crowd, and blasters were hesitantly lowered as L'hana began to make her way through. The soldiers parted willingly, eyes averted when hers landed on them. Though she felt them on her back as she passed, she paid them no mind; kept her attention on the captain that stood between the troopers and her crew.

“My lord, sincerest apologies,” one of the officers said, following closely at her side. “It's simply orders, powerful one. The Moff, he's--”

“The Moff?” L'hana echoed, cutting the man off. The young Imperial officer nodded, swallowing hard as his eyes shot down to the deck.

“Aye, my lord,” he answered, “Moff Broysc.”

“Fire! FIRE, I say!” L'hana's attention snapped round to the shouted words of the old mad man she'd dealt with before. “Kill them!! Kill them all! Do it, now, you fools, or kill each other!! I demand their heads on pikes, this _instant_!”

“That is **enough**!” L'hana shouted, finally breaking through the ranks to reach the empty space that lay between them and her crew. The old Moff looked smaller in person, though what he lacked in stature he made up for in the insane rage she saw crackling in his gaze. “Broysc,” she said coldly, her pace slowing so that she prowled to stand between the Moff and her crew. “Did I not make myself clear the last time you threatened my people? Tell these men to stand down. I'll not spill innocent blood for your sake.”

“Scabs! Traitors!” the old soldier snapped. Though looking at him in person, she wasn't sure he deserved that title, or had ever earned it in his long military career. “I've come to rip the Admiral off his pretty little throne and put him back where he belongs: under my boot, reduced to a bloody pulp!” He whirled round to face the troops again. “Kill them, I say!! Kill!! Kill yourselves if you will not do as I order!!!”

“Listen to him,” L'hana said loudly, glancing at the soldiers that faced her crew. “He is a mad man. Lower your weapons, and let me deal with this. We have committed no crimes against the Empire.”

“Wrong! Wrong and wrong again! You betray the Empire by drawing breath, and I demand punishment for your insubordination!” The Moff crossed the distance that separated them, and L'hana barely had time to dodge the vibroshiv he swung at her. “Once I have the Admiral's life, I'll have your ship! Your crew! Even you, Sith! All mine! _Now_!”

“Restrain him!” Malavai's voice bellowed out, and without question two of the heavily armored troopers from Pierce's squad moved forward. Broad hands latched onto the Moff, squeezing hard enough that he dropped the shiv with a shout. “Do you understand now?!” Quinn continued, and L'hana watched the forces as they tracked movement behind her, until Quinn came to stand before the Moff as Pierce's men forced him to his knees. “He's gone mad. This man is unfit to lead, unfit to serve, and has threatened a Sith Lord. For the past decade he has done _nothing_ to aid in any victories for the Empire, and has used his rank for inappropriate gains. Captain Yvelt.” The Captain turned to another that stood a pace before the troopers that still formed a semi-circle around them.

“Captain Quinn?” the addressed man responded, glancing nervously between the Moff and Malavai.

“You've no doubt heard how Broysc deals with those he thinks are displaying 'insuboordinate behavior,'” he said. His voice had lost some of it's fire, slowly cooling and becoming decidedly calculated. L'hana noticed the change in Yvelt's body posture, his copper eyes focused wholly on Quinn as he began to pace. “I myself had earned the rank of Captain, only for Broysc to court martial me for saving the fleet during the Battle of Druckenwell. If memory serves, you were once Commodore Yvelt, were you not?”

“...yes,” the man said slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly. L'hana watched him as he lifted an arm and gesture to the troops behind him, and they lowered their weapons.

“And I'm sure, since you've read the report released at 0600 hours this morning past, you are aware that I have been promoted to second-grade captaincy, at the behest of the Sith Lord Sidus,” Quinn continued, stopping and giving her a respectful nod. L'hana inclined her head slightly towards him, and turned her eyes back to Yvelt, who was staring at her with his jaws slightly agape. He closed his mouth with an almost audible snap, quickly holstering his blaster and approaching her. He stopped just before her and bowed at the waist.

“Lord Sidus, it is an honor,” Captain Yvelt said. L'hana extended her hand in the practiced gesture she'd been taught by Baras, and the older man took her hand with a firm grip as he pressed his nose to her knuckles. “Word of your conquests and victories for the Empire have spread far and wide. You honor this port with your presence, and I have been a terrible host for you and your servants.” He released her hand and took a knee before her. “I deserve nothing from you, but I beg you, allow my men to walk away freely. They only did what their training decides is appropriate in this situation. “

“Do you often have Moffs threatening ships that have only been docked for three hours?” L'hana asked, raising her eyebrows. Yvelt glanced up at her, his mouth quirking up in a quick grin before ducking his head again.

“Her Lordship must not have had many dealings with Moffs from the past,” he said, chuckling. L'hana had to bite on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, as the captain before her continued. “Protocol normally demands that we place each of you under temporary arrest, and investigate the Moff's claims that Captain Quinn has committed grievous insubordination. As you are a Sith Lord of great renown, however, I defer to your judgment.”

It only took one glance at Malavai for her decision to be made. There was fear there, as though he thought she might let Yvelt take them all into custody. She sighed heavily, ignoring the brief sting of hurt at knowing Malavai suspected she might betray her people like that, before she gave Yvelt her attention once more.

“Look the other way, Captain,” she said, “and I shall see to it that you, and each of the officers currently present receive an advancement in the chain of command. You shall have your title as Commodore back, and each of the soldiers present today shall receive a generous bonus. Only on the condition that we are all in agreement that this,” she swept her hand back to where Pierce's men held the still babbling and spitting Broysc was being held, “never occurred.” She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “Will that do?”

“Consider it done, my lord,” Yvelt said. She didn't miss the minute twitch of his tjaw, the tell-tale sign that he was resisting the urge to grin broadly in excitement and gratitude. “Allow me to thank you, truly thank you, for the advancement. You honor me more than you know.” He rose at her gesture, shooting Broysc a nasty look. “You honor me more than my own superior officers seem able to.” He took her hand again after a pause, placing another kiss to her knuckles. “I am in your debt.”

“The debt is paid so long as my commands are seen through,” L'hana said, tamping down the urge to grin in amusement. Commodore Yvelte nodded once more, before turning to his men and barking out a rapid-fire string of orders that she could scarcely follow. When she turned to her people, her eyes first landed on Malavai. For a moment it looked as though he'd witnessed her sprouting a third head, but he quickly recovered, schooling his features back into his usual calm, neutral mask. L'hana allowed the corners of her mouth to quirk up before she turned her gaze to her crew, gesturing for them to holster their weapons. “Put Broysc in the brig,” she said, walking past Pierce's men as she did so. “Prepare him for questioning. I'd like to know how he was able to find us so quickly.”

\- - - -

Though it was only a half hour, it felt as though much more time had passed by the time they'd restrained Broysc and begun questioning him. L'hana had followed the troopers closely, Malavai close at her side, unsure about how she truly felt.

There was something wrong with him. She'd known it at the end of their holo-transmission, the inability to see reason, to form coherent thoughts within the man's mind. Whether this was dementia or some other reason she was unsure; she'd heard Groman whispering that he'd hit the spices one too many times, and certainly didn't rule it out. A small part of her felt sorry for him, knowing that he didn't know, truly didn't understand his actions.

But the part of her that had read the reports, heard firsthand from Malavai how many lives had been lost due to his inability to lead well before he'd been showing signs of dementia... It infuriated her.

As she'd mused many times before, she knew that she was not meant to be here. The Empire did not hold her allegiance; nor did the Republic. But she had enough allies on both and no sides at all to know that Broysc had innocent blood on his hands, blood that would never be washed out, even after the death she sensed coming for him.

“My lord,” Malavai said, interrupting her thoughts to pull her to the matter at hand. “I've questioned the Moff. It appears his reason for being on Nar Shadaa's spaceport is because he was...” The captain let out a disgusted noise, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He was to leave the port on a pleasure barge, for 'R & R.' While _countless_ battles are being waged. Despicable.” He paused, furrowing his brow for a moment. “I suppose that is a trifle hypocritical coming from our side. Perhaps I should call back our crew--”

“No, Quinn,” L'hana said. “Unlike Broysc, we have earned it.” She intended to say more when Broysc began screeching again, and she turned her attention just in time to see the Moff break out of the hold of Pierce's men and come rushing towards them. Using his own momentum against them, she caught him by the elbow, swinging him round to slam his body into the nearest wall.

“Scabs! Traitors! Sith, you will unhand me or face the wrath of a Moff!”

“I will not,” L'hana said, snarling in the man's ear. “What did I say to you, old man? Mm? I told you, I would put a stop to this if you threatened me or my people again. And I intend to do just that.” Despite the number of inches the Moff had on her, she easily maneuvered him back to the single desk and chair that had been set up in the room, and forced him down into the seat. “Restrain him. Captain, my holopad.” The orders were executed in less than five seconds, and L'hana quickly pulled up the Imperial High Command line. With quick, decisive movements, she tapped out a message, and handed her pad back to Malavai. “Revise it if you wish, and read it aloud once you're through, Captain.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the captain scan the message, his expression slightly confused at first. His eyes widened briefly, and she could feel his shock rolling off of him in waves before he began to revise her missive. Once satisfied, he scanned it over once more, before tucking it under his arm. As he spoke, he walked slowly around the table, just out of arm's reach of Broysc. His greatcoat billowed, and when he strode past her, she felt the breeze the long tails of his coat kicked up.

“Effective immediately, by order of Sith Lord Darth Sidus, I hereby strip Moff Broysc of his current command, and reduce him to the rank of Ensign, on the grounds that he is unsuited for the station of Moff, or any other rank that gives credit where it is not due. He is to return to the sector that was previously under his command, and serve out a brief period under constant supervision by the security under Major Ovech's command until he is deemed fit to stand trial. Ensign Broysc is hereby charged with the following crimes: Endangerment of thousands of Imperial recruits, officers and troops; Threats of assault against his subordinates; And the deaths of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of civilians and Imperial forces alike. He is presently ordered to apologize to one Second-Grade Captain Malavai Quinn, whom he wrongfully court-martialed following the Battle of Druckenwell.” He paused and glanced at L'hana, a smile turning up one side of his mouth. “A very fitting punishment indeed, my lord.”

“Thought you might approve,” L'hana said, but her voice was drowned out by the furious shrieking of Broysc.

“Fools! Fools! Traitors, scabs all of you!” Broysc shouted. “This cannot come to pass. Do you know who you speak to?! I am a Moff! I am above you all! Above all High Command, even your gods! Bow to me, beg forgiveness, release me at once!”

“No, you complete lunatic,” L'hana snarled, crossing the room to slam her palms on the table across from the Moff and baring her teeth in his face. The man had the decency to recoil, and she could smell the fear on him, as well as the confusion. Another small pang of sympathy ran through her, and she sighed through her nose before she pointed to Malavai. “Do you see your better?! The man you so grievously wronged has you dead to rights now. You are deserving of far worse, Broysc, but I cannot condone killing you for idiocy. I am not that kind of Sith, though you'd do well to realize that you tempt me, sorely tempt me to become those which I despise.” She pushed off the table and gave him her back, clenching and uncurling her fists at her sides to stave off the urge to punch his sorry teeth out..

“You cannot do this,” the former Moff hissed at her. “You cannot be my better, filthy mongrel! Malformed _bitch_! You dare bark orders at your betters?! Look upon 'your crew,' and see! You are beneath each of them, and they beneath me! I am your better, your better's better! You are unworthy to lie beneath the shit that clings to my boots when I trudge through whatever slum you came from when I blow it all to damn pieces!”

She wheeled on him at that, feeling her anger flare violently as a sharp green glow emanated from her left fist. It was a struggle to remain where she was and not fly at him to tear the Moff to ribbons with the shiv in her boot, but her body went rigid with shock when he spat at her, and she felt the glob hit the side of her face.

Before she could tense her muscles into movement, a uniformed blur passed her, a furious roar that was not her own filling the room. With a jarring slam Malavai threw the table out of his way to shove the old man, still bound to the chair, violently onto his back. His boot found its way against Broysc's throat, holding him in place as the captain drew his blaster, and pressed the muzzle between his brows.

“Apologize. Immediately,” Malavai hissed, his lips pulled back to show his teeth. The Moff wheezed out a derisive cough of a laugh, narrowing his eyes at Malavai.

“I owe you--”

“To _her_ ,” Malavai bellowed, readying a round in his blaster. His weapon let out a loud whine, a red glow casting itself across the former Moff's face, making the lines of aging seem that much deeper, his wild-eyed stare that much more demented. “I will not tell you twice, ensign.”

At that moment, Groman entered the room, nervously announcing that their ship had been hailed by Baras. L'hana turned to her communications officer, and she heard a scuffle, Malavai's alarmed shout. Terror flew across the girl's face, and L'hana barely had time to register what was happening when the young officer snatched her, and spun her around towards the door. L'hana's arms instinctively reached out and held onto the other woman, and she felt the violent jerk of the woman's body as the sound of a blaster being fired went off.

The scent of ozone, burnt cloth and flesh filled her nostrils. L'hana felt warmth spreading against her chest, and wondered briefly why she felt no pain. A weak sound against her collarbone brought the source of the bleeding to her attention, and when she felt Groman begin to sink she shouted for a medpak.

“Too late,” Groman said, her voice catching, wet and jagged. Blood trickled from the side of her mouth, and her fingers scrabbled to get a hold of L'hana's arms. L'hana gently lowered Groman to the floor, still half-holding her, her palms sliding across the blood that soaked her uniform. “Shot me...right next t-to my...heart.”

“Groman, no, you're going to be fine, you'll be--”

“I-is it real?”

“Is what real?”

“The Force,” Groman asked. L'hana looked down into the brown eyes that stared up at her, pleading with her as the glimmer of life rapidly began to leave them. “Is it...will I be...?”

“...yes, Avlin,” L'hana said softly. Guilt ran through her, knowing that she'd only learned Groman's first name because of the girl's blood on her palms, and the memories that flowed through her skin and seeped into her soul. “You'll be with them, in the Force. With us.” She tried to smile, but knew that she'd failed, as she met the girl's gaze as the air left her lungs.

Avlin Groman died in L'hana's arms, and L'hana prayed to the Creator that she hadn't been lying to the poor girl. When the blood from the wound had seeped into the skin of her palm, she'd seen it all: Avlin's struggle in standard school, further struggles to gain any kind of purpose in Imperial military academia, her father's disappointment at her mediocre scores. The brief moments when she'd felt needed, when she'd been able to do something for the greater good, and the newer realization that she needed to make herself proud before she could hope to make anyone else proud of her. In the last moments as her soul left her, L'hana had felt Avlin's understanding that the Sith that held her wasn't bad at all. And that the girl couldn't blame her for her death.

The silence that followed was broken by the sound of the Moff's laughter, strangled as if his body was under a great weight. When L'hana looked up, she saw that Malavai had crushed the man between the floor and his own body, his knees cinched tight to keep the older man's legs from struggling until the guards pushed the table out of the way to help restrain Broysc. Malavai rushed to her in an instant, his hand instinctively going to his medpak dispenser, and L'hana reached out to cover his hand with her own.

“No,” L'hana said softly, shaking her head. Malavai's brows twisted in dismay, his eyes filled with alarm, then grief. He covered her hand with his own for a moment, a shaking breath leaving him as he looked down at the girl that L'hana still held onto.

“I've failed her,” he whispered. His eyes darted to L'hana's. “I've failed you.”

“This was not your fault,” L'hana hissed, squeezing his hand. “Not in the slightest.” She looked down at Avlin sadly, then towards the former Moff as the guards lifted him. Between the larger men he looked tiny, his boots dangling above the ground. Her eyes narrowed, and she bared her teeth. “If any are to blame, it's him.”

“You are at fault, 'Sith,' not I,” Broysc said with a grin. “You and that pathetic little shit you've given honors he does not deserve. When I am off of this ship, I shall have--”

“You will not leave this ship with a pulse, Broysc,” Malavai said, his voice slowly turning infuriated, though it was obvious he struggled to keep his full rage held back. L'hana watched as the Captain shrugged off his greatcoat and covered Avlin's body with it, and stood, turning his attention to Broysc. “You will leave this ship in a body bag once I've put you down. You have committed second degree murder, and as per the order that was received and just accepted as per Darth Sidus commanded, you have killed one of your superior officers. My lord, I cannot begin to pretend that this is not personal, but I have resisted up until this point.” His furious blue eyes met hers, and she saw pain there, under the resolve she knew he was trying to hide it under. “Permission to execute Broysc.”

“By all means,” L'hana said, baring her teeth in a snarl. “The kill should be yours.”

“You cannot kill me!” Broysc shouted, his jaw falling open in horror. “I am a Moff!”

“Not anymore,” Malavai snarled, surging to his feet and fetching his blaster. He gestured at Pierce's men, and the released him. The former Moff had just enough time to gather his bearings when Malavai drew back his hand, curled tight around his blaster. With a heavy swing, the blow landed, the heavy weight of all his strength and anger plus the blaster breaking Broysc's jaw and leaving it to hang open at a jagged, unnatural angle.

As Malavai retrieved his blaster, two of her officers filed in, and helped her with Avlin's body. The communications officer's hand was beginning to cool in hers as L'hana left the room with them, and just as the door hissed shut behind her, she heard the sound of a blaster being fired, and a body falling to the ground.

The Moff was no more.

\- - - -

It wasn't proper. A Sith did not feel sadness over an insuboordinate's murder. According to all the rumors, and all other Sith she'd crossed paths with, this should have... _amused_ her.

A Sith did not grieve. But grieve she did.

She grieved for all of them. Her crew, her friends, those that forced her hand to keep herself alive. She grieved for them because that's who she was. Because that's what her family, her late husband, _would_ have wanted. And to hell if that was what made her any poorer at playing at a Sith, she could not deny that this was part of who she was.

Her life had purpose, and she would restore her honor, one way or another. But that didn't mean she'd lost her soul along the way. And damn if this wasn't a horrible reminder of that fact.

Vette came to her chambers an hour later. Her eyes were downcast, the dark stripes on her lekku seemed dull. She sat by L'hana at her desk in the extra chair for a time in silence, and despite the fact that she had no tie to the Force she knew that Vette could sense the grief weighing heavily on both of them in the air.

“I shouldn't have brought Broysc onto the ship,” L'hana mumbled. Vette shook her head and leaned her forehead against her shoulder.

“You couldn't have known,” she mumbled. “Old man was gonna to lose it at some point.” L'hana nodded and leaned her head on Vette's, huffing out a sigh as silence stretched on. “Quinn was going to shove Broysc's body in the airlock and fly past the nearest star.”

“I wouldn't doubt it.”

“I told him not to.” A pause. “Told him that in writing it would look better if we 'released his remains to the nearest military funeral home.'”

“I'm sure he found that amusing.”

“He actually did it, Hana.” Another pause, and L'hana lifted her head when she felt the twi'lek shift. They watched one another for a moment, as Vette worried at her bottom lip between her teeth. “He listened to me, and even told Broysc's family. They seemed...relieved. Like they'd been waiting for it to happen. Or maybe even wanted it to happen.”

“Did Quinn tell them he...?”

“No,” Vette said, shaking her head. “He spared them that much. Just said that he hadn't given anyone a choice. That it had to be done.”

“A shame,” L'hana said. She sighed heavily. “A shame that Avlin won't get the recognition she deserves to cover for High Command's mistakes.”

“You really don't think they'll honor her for saving your life?” L'hana smiled sadly at her for a moment, and turned her head away. Vette went quiet before she sucked in a quiet gasp. “You wouldn't have died.” It was a statement. Not a question. L'hana shook her head.

“I would have been out of commission for a few weeks,” she admitted. “But, nothing I couldn't have grown back. Not the first time something's punched through my chest a little too close to my heart.” Her claws scratched idly at her tunic, over the scars that crossed over her chest. “I feel like she wasted her life for mine, Vette...she was so young. Barely a year older than you.”

“She's getting a hero's funeral tomorrow,” Vette said. L'hana looked round at her sharply at that, thoroughly shocked. Vette nodded and smiled, wiping at her cheek with the back of her hand. “Quinn's making all the arrangements. Even if it's just our crew...she's getting the recognition she deserves.”

“And...her parents?”

“They're in the next spaceport over, coming back from a trip to visit family,” she said. “That's why it's happening so soon. So we can send her off with her folks.” She looked forlorn for a moment. “A shame it's ending on such a bad note.”

“I'll tell them that she died saving my life,” L'hana said, setting her jaw in a belligerent way. Vette reached out and squeezed her hand in her own. “She did die a hero, Vette. They'll know it. You all know it. And so did she.”

“She did. I know she did.” The tone of Vette's voice was so sure, it gave L'hana pause. It occurred to L'hana suddenly that she had noticed, but never asked, about the fact that Vette and Avlin _had_ been close. She turned to her friend, and the twi'lek shook her head. “No, no, it wasn't like that, Hana. We were just close. Like you and me, right?”

“Right,” L'hana said. She smiled, blinking back tears as she returned the gentle squeeze on Vette's hand with her own. “I'm sorry, Vette. She was a good person.”

“She wouldn't want us to be so down about anything like this,” Vette pointed out. “For long, anyway....”

“You're right,” L'hana said with a nod. She sighed and stood, turning to her bed, eyeing the panel in the wall next to hers. “No use in being alone and sad. Let's set up your bunk again. For old time's sake.”

“Sure thing!” Vette said, sounding more chipper than she probably felt. L'hana gave her an understanding smile as they set up the spare bunk, idly discussing Flynn's harebrained mission from before. Vette left just long enough to fetch her overnight clothes and lekku buff, and a brown paper parcel. “Got us some stuff for another girl's night like this. I was waiting for your birthday, but I realized I don't know when your birthday is, so....”

She opened it on L'hana's bed, revealing a set of finely made combs, brushes and hair decorations, in various shades of green and purple. L'hana crooned in appreciative wonder as she ran her fingers over each one, and once Vette returned from the fresher to change, she'd arranged all of the combs on the bed based on color, size, and the decorations by their appropriate function. Vette laughed at the sight of L'hana waiting patiently with the package open in front of her, probably wearing an expectant expression on her face.

Vette and L'hana stayed up for most of that night and on into the wee hours of the morning, as Vette told L'hana in more detail about Avlin's life. The two of them mourned her and celebrated her, and L'hana wondered as she drifted into sleep if Avlin and her sisters had spent nights like this.

The part of her that had known Avlin's soul before it had left her agreed, and that affirmation gave her comfort as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avlin might get a short story after this piece is finished. During the first chapter, I had no idea I was going to do this to her...so now I feel really bad about that.
> 
> Also, these first two parts were written almost more than a year ago now??? But I am working on the next two parts, and I have another snippet I can probably post that will tell more of L'hana's backstory...but it's also heart wrenching. Hope y'all are ready. 8D
> 
> And Malavai will get more attention in the next two parts, don't y'all worry...a /lot/ more. B)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The times, they are a changing. It was inevitable, but change isn't always easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: I know that in canon gameplay/lore, the Fury ship has room for only 5+ people. But for the purpose of L'hana's story, which is kind of already established as diverging from canon while keeping along the same story/timeline, its different. Now that Avlin's gone, not counting the main cast there are about ten people on the ship. (Don't worry, not all of them will meet a tragic and sad end like Avlin. I hope....)
> 
> Also, looks like there might be five parts instead of four! Definitely four. I know you're all here for the chair part, but trust me...it's comin. ;)

\- - - -  
She wasn't sure if it was appropriate for a Sith Lord to be hugged by a civilian. In fact, she was sure there had to be some sort of unwritten rule about how much any kind of physical contact with a Sith Lord was a bad idea, not only for one's health but also, for the sake of decorum. 

But Avlin Groman's mother didn't seem to care about propriety. As soon as L'hana had finished explaining the circumstances of their daughter's death, she'd found herself in a tight, nearly crushing embrace in the grieving mother's arms.

Her response, of course, was automatic; physical contact was second nature to her kind. It reaffirmed the mental bond the Tii'lean had with one another, expressed joy, sorrow, affection, offered comfort. It didn't matter to L'hana that Avlin's father seemed shocked by how genuinely L'hana accepted and returned the embrace, or the fact that her crew also watched her with shocked, maybe even horrified expressions. In the further reaches of her mind she could sense Jaesa's approval, and just behind her she could briefly feel the rush of pride from Malavai.

“You don't know how much this means to us, Lord Sidus,” Avlin's mother said, her voice choked with emotion and muffled against L'hana's shoulder. L'hana smiled and squeezed gently, holding on for a few moments more before they parted. Avlin's father placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, his smile trembling a little as he tried to put on a brave face. “Avlin wanted a legacy of her own so very much. She worked so hard for it.”

“And she has earned it,” L'hana said, her voice still gentle but earnest and firm. “I will never forget her sacrifice, and neither will my crew. Her service here will be mourned, but never forgotten.”

Seeing Groman's family off with her body was a silent, somber affair. The heaviness in the air did not leave them, and L'hana felt it was in poor taste to remain on Nar Shadaa any longer. They left for Dromund Kaas, to wait out the long string of paperwork and official hearings that would come as a result of Broysc's execution. Though no one spoke out loud, the secondary reason for their return to the hub of Imperial activity was to find a replacement for Avlin.

The Crew on the _Fury_ had always been small, and intimate, barely reaching over twelve individuals. L'hana knew each individual by rank and surname, had hired them on when it had become necessary for her to take both Vette and Malavai to accompany her during missions. The role Avlin left behind was immediately noticed, with Malavai taking up the role when they realized there hadn't been anyone to send the approval transmissions to leave the station and announce their arrival on Dromund Kaas. 

For the first leg of their travel, L'hana found herself wandering the ship listlessly. The crew navigated around her, only speaking to her when they needed to debrief her on their journey or to inform her of readings for the _Fury's_ functions and readouts. Truly, she believed they needed the distraction as much as she had.

It wasn't fair to Avlin that her sacrifice could never truly be noted, or celebrated. Her death would be swept under the rug, just as all of Broysc's fuck-ups had been. The only comfort that she could seem to hold onto was that this was the last time that Broysc would cause anyone any grief, though that grief would last them all a long time. Avlin would be remembered by her crew, and by her family, but she was to be struck from Imperial record in order to protect the integrity of Imperial High Command.

To say she was furious with the situation was a gross understatement.

Eventually, her aimless pacing led her to the medbay. She found Jaesa pacing in the room in private, gnawing on a fingernail in an obvious fit of anxiety. L'hana sat at the examiner's personal terminal and waited until 'her apprentice' calmed down enough to turn her attention to her. The former Jedi Padawan stared at her for a moment before she nervously ran her fingers through her hair.

“Master, I cannot do this,” she admitted. L'hana tilted her head at the girl curiously, and gestured for her to sit in the vacant chair across from her. The young Jaesa did so, but only for a few minutes, staring off beyond her and fidgeting before she shot up out of the chair again. “You've been doing this for years now, and I cannot begin to fathom how you've managed.”

“What 'this' are you speaking of, exactly?” L'hana asked, finding her mind was able to calm and focus some if she gave her attention to the worries of another. She glanced over her shoulder towards the open door, and with a sweep of her hand and a small current of the Force passing across that space, Jaesa shut the door. As an afterthought, she flicked her wrist, and the privacy lock activated.

“Fighting alongside Imperials with such fierce loyalty to the cause,” she finally said, rushing closer to L'hana and dropping her voice to an urgent hiss. “Master, I must confess. I know that you do not believe in them, do not ally yourself with them, even if your thoughts turn so often to the Captain and the two of you are...are--”

“We are not so close and I am not so impressionable that I've lost sight of who I am for a pretty face,” L'hana said, raising an eyebrow. If Jaesa were her senior she might have gone on the defensive, but she chalked Jaesa's concern up to youthful assumptions. She also chalked it up to blind trust that Jaesa seemed so willing to accept L'hana's words so quickly. About Malavai, at the least.

“But what if...what if we're discovered?” she pressed, her brows coming together in consternation. “Master, you have taken on the mantle of a Darth. You cannot afford to be discovered as anything other than that.”

“Then I will not,” L'hana said simply, shrugging. “Believe me when I say this: I have plenty of reasons to stay alive until I feel my conscience is clear. And nothing will keep me from seeing that done.” She gestured again to the chair, and Jaesa sat down. She seemed to find focus on her, hanging on her every word, and dimly she was aware of the young woman probing, trying to find any deceit in her words or feelings. “I believe you do not trust our allies because you do not trust me. You see the mantle I wear, and the fact that I lie to the others to maintain some sort of image.” She inhaled and slowly exhaled, meeting Jaesa's stare. “Now I must tell you how I came to be here, and hopefully you will begin to understand me.”

The full telling of it was comforting. Not just about Leon and her children, about her life before. Her struggles with taking on the persona of someone she wasn't; how that crime alone could damn her soul to never seeing Leon again in After. She told Jaesa about the corruption she'd seen in the young acolytes on Korriban, the experiences she'd had with back-stabbing from master to master. How even those who were supposedly friends with one another would kill each other in an instant, if it meant saving their own skin or earning the favor of one of the masters. She told her apprentice and companion about the first man she'd killed to protect herself when he had declared her unfit to be a Sith, to keep herself from being exposed. At that, she'd paused, watching Jaesa's closely guarded expression.

“I feel...if I were in the same position, I would have done the same thing,” she admitted, though there was still some uncertainty in her voice. “Jedi have been known to kill in self defense, but...taking another sentient life is still--”

“Unforgivable, I know,” L'hana admitted. She took in a deep breath, feeling the weight of her guilt press down on her. Not for the first time, but actually allowing it to take the forefront of her mind was...exhausting. “But...he gave me no other choice. In the end, I suppose I could have incapacitated him some other way, which would have led to even more trouble.” Her posture drooped some, and out of habit, she switched the hem of her tunic into her hand and began worrying at the fabric between her index finger and thumb. “I've killed...many, after walking the path of a Sith. It's expected of me. But where I can avoid it, I do.” Her free hand went to her stomach, tracing through the layers of her tunic and belts at the scars there. “I have many reasons for trying to stay closer to the light than the dark, Jaesa. Reasons that I sometimes don't understand myself.”

By the time that the recounting of everything that had happened of the past two years (had it really been so long?), they had dropped into orbit around Dromund Kaas. L'hana and Jaesa were silent for a time, L'hana watching the younger woman as her brown eyes searched the walls. She eventually sighed heavily, pressing the heel of her palm against her brow.

“When I first discovered my powers,” she said, “I was terrified of what others would think. I had this incredible power that was only rumored to be real in legends. It was so coveted and precious, apprentices from the past were kept locked away for years, only allowed outside of the Temple walls when their power was needed the most. They were deemed 'too impressionable' and 'too precious' to ever be safe walking among civilians, soldiers, even our own kind.” Another sigh, carrying the weight of her burden, and L'hana felt it strike a chord in her chest, one of camaraderie. “I'm different. And so are you. I know what it was like to live in that kind of fear...I wish you didn't have to. I think if circumstances were different, you would have made a great Jedi.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” L'hana said, a wry grin pulling at her features, “especially from someone who can judge a person's heart as deeply as you can. But you understand why I wouldn't choose that life. Why I must continue with this one until I can break free of it. Don't you?”

“I do. It's difficult, but I understand. And I'll do what I can to keep your secret safe.”

“As I will do what I can to keep you from being discovered. When I took you into my crew, I meant what I said: I will protect you from the corruption of this universe if I can. But you have to trust me. It's not a one-way street with me.” L'hana hopped off of the stool she'd been perched on and reached a hand out to Jaesa. “So. Do you trust me, like I trust you?”

“I do, M-”

“Please,” L'hana said, shaking her head minutely, “when we're in private like this, I am your equal. L'hana will do, Jaesa.”

“...I trust you, L'hana,” she said, standing up so she could clasp L'hana's hand in both of hers. L'hana allowed herself to smile, broad and confident in the fact that this would give them both strength, and clapped a hand on Jaesa's shoulder.

“C'mon then,” she said, urging her out of the medbay. “Let's go find some fresh meat to fill the vacancy.”

“That's a little dark, isn't it?”

“Dark humor is what's kept me sane during all of this.”

“I think that 'sane' is a little debatable.”

When the medbay doors hissed open, the laughter that L'hana barked out turned quite a few heads, but the crew had long since learned to accept these outbursts with a shrug and hastily averted eyes to hide the grins their leader's wild laughter often caused.

\- - - -

In the end, she left the decision to choose a replacement for Avlin up to Quinn. Being back on Kaas brought back memories she would have preferred to forget. Though at least this visit had started off well enough, the weather being much more pleasant and the fighting between factions having calmed down some. Quinn left the crew to station duties while he left for the personnel offices, and L'hana didn't envy him that. Her own responsibilities on Kaas were far less tedious...not counting the debriefing that Baras demanded. It was long and arduous, an hour's worth of the Sith Lord chastising her for being 'too soft' with Avlin's funeral, then commending her for 'a job well done' with Broysc.

“The old lunatic overstayed his welcome,” Baras eventually admitted. “I can allow the slip in your behavior regarding Groman's accident. You have earned your crew's undying loyalty. But do not slip up and act soft again.” He leaned towards her, so his mask almost struck her temple. “It is not just your reputation that is at stake here. I will not hesitate to take you down if you tarnish my own. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Master,” L'hana said, having to steel her will to prevent herself from baring her teeth at him. She stood before him for what felt triply as long as his lecture had gone on, until he finally released her with a scoff, waving her away as though she were some bothersome child he'd been scolding. It was difficult not to storm out, her nerves already frayed from the funeral (or lack thereof) and memories brought on by being back on Dromund Kaas.

She needed to be alone. She needed to not hear the constant hum of engines as ships left the port, needed only silence, just silence enough to let her heart and soul try to mend itself back together. Avlin had died for nothing, but the demented whims of a crazy old man and misplaced loyalty. Tears burned at her eyes, blurring her vision as her feet carried her away from Baras's suffocating presence.

Vette and Jaesa both shot to their feet the moment she left Baras's public chambers, though she waved them off when they both hissed out questions about what had happened. She ignored the hurt radiating off of both of them when she sent them away, _back to the ship, both of you,_ her words clipped and her chest tight.

It was Vette, she knew, that kept Jaesa from following and bringing her along. Vette had known her longer, had a closer understanding of who she was. It was also Vette who let her get a head start, before she tore through the streets of Kaas City with Jaesa, to the one person who could possibly help her begin pulling herself out of the void trying to reach out and take her.

But first, they all let her sulk.

For nearly two years, she'd been their puppet. Two years, she had killed, stolen, lied and cheated. This was not who she was. Back home, she would have demanded a month long mourning period, in order for the crew, who had become something like a clan to her, to recover from the shock. To collect themselves, mourn Avlin's loss, and celebrate her life. Vette deserved more time, and Avlin deserved a better farewell...feasts, effigies, a true heroine's end.

But it was not to be. None of it was. She was so far from home. And she was too ashamed to return, up to her neck in her own self loathing at what she'd done.

What would her clan think, if they'd were still alive? What would her parents say? Would they be able to look at her? If Leon hadn't been ripped from her heart, would he have been able to stand lying in the same bed with her at night?

If her children had survived, would she have been able to stand holding them without seeing blood on her hands?

Her wandering had eventually led her to the walls facing the Riverfall Wilds. Nowhere in the galaxy looked exactly the same, despite what anyone had ever told her. 'You see one ocean, you've seen them all.' They'd never seen the Syre's Draught, peaceful green and blue waters that gave life to all those who lived on Tii'aye, or how on Tii'zhu, you could see the moon's reflection in the Draught. As beautiful as Tii'zhu had been, it had been without the vast deserts of Tattooine or Balmorra, great expanses of golden sand, with night skies so vibrant and full of stars it had brought her to tears more than once.

With a self deprecating snort, she realized she was home sick.

Yes, she missed her home. She missed her people, her customs, she missed being able to be herself. But she couldn't go back to being that person.

“My lord?”

His voice made her jump, but at least the walls had railing she backed into rather than stumbling backwards off the edge. One hand clutching her tunic over her rapidly beating heart, she stared at him for a moment before laughing at herself and Quinn's genuinely surprised expression.

“How did I not hear you coming?” L'hana asked, raking her fingers through her hair and smoothing out her tunic. Her nerves became frayed at his unexpected company, and even with the shock of his appearance gone she could feel her heart hammering out an erratic beat against her ribs. It had been some time since they'd found a moment to be alone, since she'd let slip that she'd never lost interest in...flirting. The riot of emotions and thoughts grappling for attention now had that to contend with, but she managed to keep herself focused on what he was saying rather than what she felt.

“Many of us learned quickly how to maneuver the halls without being seen or heard while serving Broysc,” he admitted with a slight grin. L'hana tried, and failed, to keep her expression from falling. The tension fell slack, and L'hana turned away from him before anything too dark showed. “My apologies. That is...a very sore topic still, isn't it?”

“Groman shouldn't have died, Quinn,” L'hana said softly. She felt warmth next to her, and knew he'd risked standing closer to her. A glance at the railing where she leaned against it confirmed that he was within reach, one gloved hand gripping the paristeel tightly. She watched the black leather stretch over his knuckles as he squeezed tightly at the rail as she continued, “None of them did. How many soldiers, prisoners and civilians were murdered because of his childish whims?”

He was silent for a time, before his hesitant response came. “Do you want an honest answer? I've been tracking the numbers since he had me left planetside on Balmorra.”

“No,” she said, almost laughing out of shock. She shouldn't have been. Of course he would keep track.

“Then what is the best answer, my lord?”

“I'm not sure.” She let out a long, heavy sigh. “I don't really know anymore. Besides the fact that if I should have taken the shot. Maybe I shouldn't have brought Broysc onto the ship...maybe if I hadn't egged him on before, even, things would be--”

“As they are now,” Quinn insisted. His hand covered hers, the smooth leather warm despite the chill of the air whipping around them. “L'hana.” His use of her first name, the sudden drop of all formalities pulled her attention to his face, and she almost drew back at the intensity of his stare. “If you hadn't brought him on board, I would have. He deserved to die regardless of what he tried to put us through on Nar Shadaa, and even if you had not given me the order, or refused to let me take him on board....at the risk of ruining my entire career, I would have shot him on the spot.” Tearing his eyes away from hers, he sighed bitterly, his hand still on hers as his thumb idly rubbed across her knuckles. “A bright young woman once told me, 'we cannot allow ourselves to be trapped by what could have gone differently.'” He looked at her again, and there wasn't any way she could hide the blush hearing her own words, repeated so earnestly to her. “'We have only the present, and small comforts in the future.' Broysc can't hurt anyone anymore.”

“He can't hurt you anymore,” she pointed out. As soon as the words left her, mortification filled her, and she pulled her hand away. Something like guilt filled her, spurned her into turning her back to him again, and walking away.

“Wait,” he said, and his voice was close behind her. Decorum was clearly well beyond him, his hand grabbing her shoulder and stopping her entirely. “L'hana, I know what you meant. I do. Even at the cost of a good soldier, a good woman's life, you cannot know how glad I am that he's gone. It is better for the galaxy, but I know you carry the burden of Avlin's life on your shoulders when it is not yours to carry. Why?”

“It isn't obvious?” she asked. She couldn't face him; not yet. Leon was gone, but her feelings were undeniable at this point. “I brought him onto the ship, threatened him...all for you. I will carry the guilt that I was responsible for this, because I thought it would give you closure over that chapter of your life...because I was selfish. Because you--” She choked on her own words, though her mind tried to scream them out for her. _Because I would do anything for you_. And she would. Spirits forgive her, she would, if he but said the word....

“I--” Quinn's own words were cut off when the roar of a departing ship tore through the air above them. The wind kicked up as they both hurried off of the wall's open area to the stairs. “My lord, this is hardly an appropriate place for all this.”

“I agree,” L'hana coughed, wiping dust off of her face. In the process of shaking debris that had been stuck in her hair, she caught Malavai watching her. Though a patrol of troopers marched by, the open affection in his eyes was apparent, and L'hana ducked her chin to hide her intense blush. “We should get back to the....” Her words trailed off when one gloved finger slid under her chin, tilting her head to face him. Normally stern and rigid features had turned softer, warmer, and L'hana fought the urge to bolt as he leaned down, and she felt his stubble scrape lightly against her cheek.

“Meet me back in Kaas City in an hour, if it pleases you.” The whispered invitation was accompanied by the brush of his lips against the shell of her ear.

Her heart had definitely stopped, amid the sudden onslaught of adrenaline that set her skin ablaze and cause her stomach to jump somewhere behind her tonsils. By the time she was certain she had a pulse again, he'd swept past her, though she hadn't missed the pleased and hopeful expression he'd shown before schooling his features into that familiar mask again.

Somehow, she managed to find her way back to the ship. Her mind fought against itself and what she thought he'd said, what she knew he'd said, and what he meant or didn't mean. When her vision managed to clear some, she found herself standing in her quarters, with Vette and Jaesa perched on her bed and waiting for her.

“Did he talk to you?” That was Vette...wasn't it? She was still reliving seeing such open affection on Malavai's face, aimed at _her_.

“Yeah.”

“Did he bring up news about Avlin's replacement?” Jaesa's voice...Malavai's, low and warm and rumbling against her ear.

“No, we...had other things we needed to talk about.” How she'd managed to get those words out was beyond her. Especially when her body shivered, visibly, when she felt haunted by the ghost of the sensation of his lips brushing her earlobe as he spoke. She was aware enough to see Jaesa and Vette exchange a confused glance, and she saw suspicion dawning on the latter's cerulean features.

“...liiiiike?”

“I'm...meeting back in Kass City in an hour?”

“You're awfully flustered.” Vette's voice was smug. “Isn't she, Jaesa?”

“....among other things.” L'hana couldn't even force out the probing of Jaesa's power, and she felt her blush increase when Jaesa let out a long, low whistle. “He practically asked you on a date, didn't he?”

“I'm...maybe?”

“Stars' end!” Vette hopped up and off the bed, swooping in on L'hana and grabbing her by the shoulders. “He _did_. That Imp bastard, he finally did! Okay, okay, uhhh...Jae, in the vanity, get me one of the pins. Not too flashy, though, and you,” Vette spun her around and began shoving her in the direction of the fresher, “clean up. Can't believe Doctor Feelgood finally manned up. Do you think we can hide a wire on her so we can--”

“No, Vette.”

“Aw, Jae, you're no fun.”

“Stop complaining and focus on helping her get ready for her date with the Captain.”

Oh. So she actually _was_ going on a date with Malavai.

Huh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They might come from two different worlds, but awkward first date experiences are fairly universal. Malavai and L'hana knock down the final wall, for better or for worse.
> 
> No going back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know what you're all thinking.
> 
> "Is this it?! Is this finally it?! The moment we've all been waiting for?!!!"
> 
> I mean...sort of.
> 
> First I apologize for the wait between this and the last chapter. I had most of it written down when my inspiration went kaputz for a while. Now, an additional 2000 words or more, it finally feels ready to share. So I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! The next chapter is going to get pretty smutty, and there's going to be a change in POV. Malavai will be telling the story for the remainder of this portion of his and L'hana's crazy adventure together. And yes.
> 
> There is going to be shenanigans in a chair. /The/ chair.

\- - - - -

When Overseer Tremel had first taken her under his wing, he had taken great pains to give her a crash course on the kind of behavior and mannerisms expected of a Sith Acolyte. Her upbringing was deemed 'archaic and primitive,' and though she'd always been polite and agreeable, Tremel was not satisfied until her act was perfect.

No matter what he'd done, however, there was little that could be done about how she'd been raised. And that was, according to Vette, 'blatantly apparent given the circumstances.' At least where her wardrobe was concerned.

Vette hadn't been too pleased about the lack of options, but there wasn't much she could do to talk L'hana out of taking it. After the rush job of getting her put together (thanks to Jaesa lending her a dress from when she'd still been in Alderaan's social circle), she didn't have time to coerce L'hana into buying a new outfit entirely, both of them ushering her quickly into a taxi with barely enough time to spare. Alone in the taxi, she was allowed some time to think...which wasn't always the best idea, but where else did she have to go but her own thoughts?

What did he see in her, she wondered? The doubt over her loyalties had long since talked out of their system. He knew, or at least accepted, that she would serve Baras for as long as it took to wriggle out of his realm of influence. And though it hadn't been said aloud, most of them knew she would disappear when that happened. Though she wasn't ready to face them yet, she still had a home to get back to. Somehow...

She was no patriot. The Empire had good people who truly believed their cause was just, or had no other choice in fighting for them; she fell into that unfortunate category. At least, she hoped she did. Quinn seemed like nothing could shake his faith in the Empire. It had taken near on a year and a half to get to this stage, with all the rules and regulations he so strictly adhered to. How could such a staunch Imperialist think, even for a moment, that she was someone he'd want to spend an hour of his free time with?

Perhaps it wasn't best to think about these things. One day she would get those answers out of him; Leon was gone, and part of her with him, but she cared enough about Malavai that she wanted to know. Even if it hurt, she wanted to know if he still suspected she was some sort of a spy. It was difficult to beat down the overbearing thoughts that he was only doing this to get closer to her, to try and confirm any lingering suspicions.

 _Probably best not to go into things thinking like this_ , she reminded herself, and stared out at the swamps and hills of Drommund Kaas as the taxi sped over them.

Though the storm had come and gone, another was well on its way by the time the taxi landed in the heart of Kaas City. Wind had picked up again, and she automatically lifted a hand to keep the pin Vette had secured in her hair, mindful (for once) to keep some part of her appearance together.

She was nervous. Stars, she was nervous. And where was Quinn? Had he decided not to go through with this? Standing on the landing pad, she stared back in the direction of the space station; maybe she should just go back....

It took every ounce of willpower not to shriek when someone cleared their throat next to her ear. She did jump, however, and it didn't go unnoticed; Quinn's chuckle warmed her, in more ways than one, and she wasn't sure which emotion was going to gain control when she turned to face him.

“Bad practice, sneaking up on a Sith like that,” she said tersely. Ah. Frustrated, then. Quinn looked entirely too pleased with himself for half a second before he glanced away from her.

“Lucky for me you're not a typical Sith.” His response caught her off guard, and she couldn't hold back her laughter. When it had passed, Quinn was watching her, and he didn't seem bothered with hiding his emotions now behind his usual cold, impassive mask. Nerves took hold again, and it was her turn to glance at something, _anything_ else. “If I may, my lord, I'd like to compliment you on how stunning you look. That dress suits you.” Her attention snapped back to him, and there wasn't anything different about how he spoke...but it made her feel as if she were the only person in the galaxy, because it was coming from him. And the look he gave her!

_Oh, damn him. Damn him to Hoth and back. Well. Two can play at that game._

“I'm glad it pleases you,” she said, her voice dropping back into the coy tone she hadn't used in months on him. The result was instantaneous, and delightful; a minute widening of his eyes, the blush that threatened to creep upwards from his low collared tunic--

_Wait. Is he in [b]civilian[/b] clothes?!_

Yes. He very much was. Though not casual, this was far from being his uniform or the field gear she was so used to seeing him wear. The black jacket fit him much more...intimately than his uniform did, with a high collar that drew attention to his strong jawline. Deep gray trousers and black knee boots completed the outfit, the picture of someone dressed to make a lasting impression. And impress it did. It all seemed specifically tailored to fit him, and the sight of him just... _did_ things for her.

Enough that she let it be known, with a low hum of appreciation in her throat as she gave him a slower once over after her first quick inspection. That earned her a full-blown blush, and he shifted anxiously in front of her, going stock-still when she prowled slowly around him in a tight circle.

“Why, Captain, you're beginning to make me suspect this actually _is_ a date,” she said once she'd come full circle. He raised an eyebrow at her, his expression unreadable for a brief moment before he closed the distance between them. She hadn't realized until then how cold her bare arms were, his closer proximity bringing his warmth close enough for her to feel.

“I would have hoped that you had no doubts about my intent, my lord,” he said, his voice that low, delicious rumble that made her toes curl in her boots. It made keeping her eyes locked to his incredibly difficult, as it always had been. “Were my intentions not clear?”

“Do you want my honesty, Quinn?”

“I find the brutality of it refreshing, and completely necessary, in light of my question.”

“Your plan was clear,” she responded after taking in a deep breath. _Oh. He's wearing cologne. [b]That[/b] cologne. Breathing's not a good idea, then._ “But your intentions?” She reached out and brushed her fingertips across one sleeve of his jacket, belatedly realizing he'd folded his arms between his question and her response. Even the absent touch yielded the sensation of his muscle through the fabric, and she blinked heavily as she collected her words again. “I'm not entirely sure what you want out of this, Quinn. Flirting was fun, and you know I am interested. But I don't understand you unless you speak plainly.”

“You overwork yourself,” he pointed out. His assertion surprised her, given her observation. So much so that she barely noticed his fingers sliding over hers, and holding them captive against his arm. “That's supposed to be my job. But right now, I want you to forget everything. Just for once.” His eyes released her, glancing down at where he held her. Her heart leapt into her throat when he lifted her hand to his mouth, lips pressing against her knuckles. The touch electrified her, setting every nerve ending on fire and stealing the breath from her lungs. Quinn's blue eyes caught her again, and the intensity of the man's gaze nearly made her knees buckle. “Forget your station. Forget mine. I want to see you for who you are. I intend to make you feel like a woman who is deeply admired, and deserving of time away from what's demanded of you. Does that clear things up, my lord?”

“I...yes.” She had to force the words out, and as it was they came out sounding small, adding mortification to the cocktail of mixed emotions warring in her. Reaching up, she pulled both their hands down, shocked her fingers weren't trembling as she brushed them against the back of his. “Though, if your intent is to distract and please me, calling me by my first name would help.”

“Consider it done, L'hana,” he answered, and the grin he gave her was heart wrenching in the best way possible. With practiced motions he slid her hand into the crook of his arm, and steered her in the direction of the luxury speeder she hadn't seen before. “It would also help if we didn't spend the entire night on the landing pad. Hardly the appropriate location.”

“I'd say so,” she agreed. She shouldn't have been surprised, but it was still an unexpected act when Quinn helped her into the speeder. It was clear that Quinn was intent on going the full nine yards, and the prospect thrilled an excited her. When he settled into the seat next to her, she watched him for a time in silence, until her curiosity got the better of her. “Where is an appropriate location, then?”

“I'd prefer that to be a surprise.” Quinn's voice held a promise that made her shiver, and L'hana found herself terribly excited, despite everything. Losing part of the crew she so desperately tried to protect, the odd family she'd built around herself to fill the ever growing void...not knowing if she would ever know peace again.

Despite everything...she was falling in love with him.

\- - - - -

She hadn't known what to expect, truth be told. Still, Quinn surprised her at every turn.

To begin, he took her on a quick tour of the residential district of Kaas City; unlike the rest of the city, which seemed to her dreary and on the verge of drowned, the residential area seemed much more vibrant. For a moment, L'hana thought it reminded her of Nar Shaddaa. Comparable, but more restrained.

That she kept to herself; she had a feeling Quinn wouldn't appreciate the sentiment.

He knew enough that near the end of the tour, she began to notice the change in his voice as he spoke. It was muted from the start, more a recital of historical facts or listing off important military figure's homes. As it drew to a close, his words were warm. Even going so far as to recall childhood memories, inadvertently revealing he'd grown up here.

“When we finally managed to get on one of the trams to take us back to our building, there was mud caked on our clothes up to our necks.” L'hana held back laughter at the mental image of pubescent Malavai Quinn, standing with his childhood friends with his chin held high as the comers and goers on the tram eyed them with curiosity and disdain. “My mother nearly had kittens at the sight of me.” Casting her a glance, he seemed to lose some of his nerve, subconsciously rubbing at the bridge of his nose. L'hana bit her lip at a further attempt not to laugh at his expense. “Needless to say, I avoided that path back home. Never saw that uniform again. I'm certain my mother burned it.”

“So you were born here,” she observed. Quinn nodded, turning the speeder into another lane and setting it on autopilot once more. “I can't imagine growing up here,” she admitted, glancing out the windows at the traffic passing by. “And being expected to stay so clean.” She gave him a sidelong grin, delighted when she was rewarded with a blush he tried to hide as it crept up his throat. “My friends and I were much more rough and tumble. We would have gone looking for a mess to get into.”

“Sounds unrestricted,” Quinn said. A small thread of envy was in his voice, and she looked at him curiously. He gave her a shrug, folding his arms across his chest. L'hana was distracted for a moment by how the jacket stretched out over his arms and shoulders, when she realized he was talking. “I do not regret dedicating my life to serving the Empire. But perhaps, given more freedom as a child, I might have been more like you.”

“You don't want to be like me,” L'hana said, laughing outright at the notion. Now it was his turn to look curious, and she scoffed lightly as she continued. “I'm the way I am because of the changes I was forced to make. Not because of how I was raised. If I weren't a Sith, I think you'd find me...how should I put it?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, and snapped her fingers as the words came to her. “'Entirely distasteful in the extreme, and quite possibly the most chaotic and wild individual it's ever been one's displeasure to cross paths with!'”

“I find that very hard to believe,” Quinn responded. L'hana eyed him suspiciously, and for a moment, it seemed he was at a loss for words. When they finally came, they were soft, almost uncertain. “There are good men and women in the Empire that are a little rough around the edges. You're blunt, sometimes a little too bold for me to handle, but the military and Sith alike are rife with dishonest people who hide behind proper masks that put others at ease.” He reached out and pushed a lock of her hair out of her face. “Regardless of the circumstances, I think I would always find myself incredibly drawn to you, and utterly charmed.”

Now it was her turn to be at a loss for words. With her sufficiently flustered, Quinn exited the speeder, closing the door behind him. She was too stunned to even begin reaching for her door by the time he'd opened it for her, or to react when he'd taken her hand and pulled her out of the speeder until they'd reached the walkway leading to a warmly lit building. The doors were held open for them, and L'hana noticed the credit chip and credentials tag that Quinn attempted to discretely pass to one of the greeters.

“You have to admit, however,” she said, finally regaining her composure for long enough to raise an eyebrow as a well dressed man (clearly management) scurried to greet them, leading them out of the entryway and further into the restaraunt. “The Empire's charm is a lot less messy, and loud.”

“It has its benefits,” he admitted, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Such as?”

“A private room with the best view of Kaas City there is to be found,” he said, sounding as casual as one could be as two servers opened the high doors they'd paused in front of.

The room itself was clearly intended for larger parties. But all of the space had been cleared out of the long, spacious room. Save for a single table placed in front of the center-most window of a semi-circular wall of windows. Though the windows were tinted so as not to take away from the ambiance, it was still clear why _this_ was the best view. It showed a spacious view of Kaas City's downtown area, and the distant mountains that stretched out in the far West. The lighting was in a word, romantic. Low and warm, clearly dimmed, occasional flashes from the storms and long, snaking forms of lightning illuminating the space. 

It took her a moment to realize that Quinn had left her to wander to the windows. For a moment, she simply stood, watching, her skin feeling slightly abuzz with an odd combination of calm and heightened awareness. Bracing herself against the nearest windowsill, she stared out into the storm clouds, their dark gray depths somehow calming. Her people had always whispered that her kind were created in the belly of such storms, given physical form when their gods spirited them away into their mothers' wombs. It did feel like she was staring into some part of herself...whether that was good introspection or not, she wasn't sure.

When Quinn cleared her throat, her eyes focused onto her own reflection in the windows. Slightly rosier than her normal colors due to the lights, she looked...at ease. Natural in the deep green, silken cloth of Jaesa's borrowed formal wear. Her eyes darted to his reflection, standing behind one of the chairs and watching her with an expression she could not place. Reverence? Fear? Affection? Perhaps all and perhaps none. As she turned to him, he gave her an honest, warm smile, looking more like himself than she'd ever seen. 

L'hana decided the way he'd watched her wasn't worth overthinking.

“Such a gentleman,” she observed, half teasing and half praising as she let him push in her chair once she'd sat down. As he seated himself, the grin on his face was boyish, eyes downcast as a blush dusted his cheekbones. “I'm sure you've had plenty of practice on all the other Sith Lords you've swept of their feet.”

“I can assure you, my manner only comes from how I was raised,” he insisted. The twitch at the corners of his lips gave his mischief away before he continued, “Though, I would be remiss if I didn't admit that I'm doing my best to make this the most memorable night of your life since we met.”

“So you're piling on a bit of extra charm?”

“Only a little.”

“I see,” she said, slowly, watching as one of the handful of servers assigned to them poured a deep blue liquid into a glass. When Quinn's was poured, and he held his up in a silent toast, she mirrored him, watching him with that 'predatory stare' Vette always seemed to squirm under. When the burn of the alcohol quickly faded, almost as soon as she'd drank, she smiled at him. “We'll see if it pays off by the end of the night.”

“I think you'll find that I can plead a very fine case for myself, my lord.” The humor in his tone wasn't lost on her, nor the rougher quality of his voice after he'd drank some of the potent spirit that had been poured for them. “And I am prepared with a list of topics, observations, and anecdotes to tip the odds in my favor.”

“Let's begin with the first,” L'hana said, grinning at him as menus were handed to them, amused that her prompting had him momentarily speechless. “An observation. And it only seems fair that I respond in kind, yes?”

“Really,” he said, with a long-suffering sigh. “You spend entirely too much time with Vette. This is supposed to be a date, not a competition.”

“Oh, don't think I can out-charm you and leave you tongue tied?” She sniffed, faking haughtiness as she eyed the menu over. When she glanced at him over the top of the holopad, it almost slipped out of her fingers when she spied the way he was looking at her. Apparently he'd learned how to near perfectly mimic her 'predator's stare.' Though his gave the impression he was more keen on devouring certain parts of her rather than hunting. As if he'd already caught her.

….the most terrifying part was that he had.

“If I'm lucky, we'll both be tied up for some time.”

“Quinn you are an absolute scoundrel out of uniform,” L'hana said in a scandalized tone, pressing an open hand to her collarbone for added affect. His gaze dipped when she lowered her hand, and he blinked heavily after letting it linger for a moment too long, eliciting a delighted laugh from her. “Like I said. A scoundrel. And I think I love it.”

“That's one point in my favor, then.” If he were anyone else, the smugness in his voice would have pissed her off, had it come from anyone else. But with Malavai Quinn and all of their history...she found his confidence exhilarating. She was on the verge of making another comeback when the first dish they'd ordered was brought to their table. The disappointment of losing her opportunity was enough time for Quinn to strike. “That green is one of your favorite colors, isn't it?”

“My....oh,” she blinked owlishly at the plate that had been placed before her on the table as her mind attempted to catch up with him. “Yes. It is.”

“But not your favorite shade,” he continued. L'hana squinted a little at him as he tucked into the start of his own meal. “Not enough blue to it. Still,” he paused, his eyes roaming over her, from shoulder to the top of the table and up again, “it looks very good on you.” Judging by the smirk he wore, her reaction was satisfying to him. “And, you? What's your observation?”

It took her a moment to shake off the shocked warmth that flooded her at his thinly disguised compliment. Rolling her shoulders, she ate in silence for a while, staring out the windows as lightning snaked through the clouds.

“You're wearing cologne,” she finally said, more to the air between them than directly to him. “You first wore it when you came to me on Balmorra, asking me to be taken in as part of the crew.” Closing her eyes, L'hana breathed in deep, slowly, catching the scent of his nerves and the spice of the wine on his breath under the cologne. “Masculine, but not so overbearing that it makes your eyes water; subtle even though its the kind that makes a lasting impression.”

“And...? Did it leave a _good_ impression?”

“Like the sight of you leaving your quarters already had, yes.” Her smile was slow, entirely impish, and garnered the desired effect: a blush along his throat that she wanted to press her mouth to. She satisfied herself with the back of her hand to hide the continued amusement at his expense. “I believe your move is next, Quinn.”

“Malavai.”

“Pardon?”

“If I may, I'd prefer if you called me Malavai,” he explained. The shy, boyish glance was back, and it tugged at some part of her that had remained cold and distant. “If that is to your liking, of course?”

“Yes, it is,” she said quickly, and winced at how eager she sounded. The appreciation was visible on him, but she was glad that their next course offered enough distraction so she could look away as she tried to regain some composure.

But, given the knowing glint in Malavai's blue gaze, it was unlikely she'd gain the advantage anytime soon.

“Malavai, you seem entirely too pleased anytime you catch me off guard.”

“Purely accidental, I assure you.” He paused, lifting his glass again. “Although,” he admitted, side-eyeing her as he took another drink, “I must admit I find some small joy in it when it happens.”

As the hour passed into it's second, time seemed to flash by in a series of back-and-forth verbal battles to see who could make who blush the most. L'hana took it as a personal victory when an offhand comment about Malavai's ass looking sculpted from marble when in uniform, causing the Captain to snort into his glass of wine. It became less and less about who could outdo the other, and turned to genuine conversations, the ease and sincerity coming as a pleasant change of pace for L'hana.

A sense of ease had fallen between them, long enough for her to pull the pins out of her hair and Malavai to have taken off his jacket. It took her a few glasses of wine to stop staring at the way the white dress-shirt did far less to hide the Captain's build. And more than once, she caught him staring at her with rapt attention as she took each of the pins out of her hair. It gave her a rush of pride each time, knowing he was similarly affected by her.

From recounting memories about training as youths to swapping 'once I got so drunk I' stories, the words came easily. There were no awkward silences, beyond compliments that left one of them silently regaining their wits (or both, simultaneously), and seeing the way Malavai slowly relaxed into himself was an experience all its own. He had given himself to the Empire wholeheartedly, and though she could admire his dedication, seeing the person he was under the uniform was a form of intimacy that left her feeling grateful he trusted her with himself.

Solemnly, in the safety of her own thoughts, she swore that as long as he served beside her, she would never break that trust.

Eventually came the subject of family. L'hana's came easiest, beyond the touchy subject of her husband, which Malavai gracefully steered around.

“My _ti'je_ and _zhu'je_...sorry, my parents,” she corrected herself after dipping into her mother tongue, “came from Tii'aye. My peoples' home. When I was born, they had me for all of a fortnight before dying in a brush fire.” She held up a hand, shaking her head when he took in a breath to apologize for bringing the subject up. “I was raised by a...a very good group of people. And I know them well enough in my memories, and theirs, to know my parents loved me. My parents were good people. I would have grown well with them, but eventually, the Emerald would have taken me in.” She paused and glanced sidelong at him. “What about you? What about your parents?”

The shock at her inquiry flashed across his face quickly before he schooled it back into a thoughtful expression. L'hana tilted her head slightly at him, wondering if she'd offended him, and was on the verge of offering that he could keep things to himself it he didn't wish to divulge. 

“My father was a Colonel in the Imperial Army,” Malavai said at length, and leaned back in his chair, which had been angled partially towards the windows. Their last course had long since been cleared from the table, with only another bottle of wine and their glasses occupying the table now. They were left to the room by themselves, 'for as long as her lordship desires.' “Rymar Quinn. Very rigid, distant man. His entire life was dedicated to his military career.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” L'hana observed, hiding an amused look behind her wine glass. Malavai watched her closely, a smile tugging at his otherwise stoic features when he caught her poorly hidden smirk. “What was he like when you were growing up? Did he encourage you to throw yourself with such abandon into your own pursuit to climb the ranks, Captain?”

“No, actually.”

“Oh?” She sat her glass down, leaning towards him on the table with growing interest. “I'm shocked.”

“No need to be,” Malavai said, a bit more gruffly than he'd likely intended, judging by the slightly frustrated grimace he gave. “My father died when I was fairly young.”

“Oh...oh Malavai, I'm so sorry.”

“Truly, you've no need to be,” he insisted. “He...died well.” He cleared his throat, glancing at the wine glass in his hands with a perplexed furrow in his brow.

“How...?”

“Battle of Rhen Var. Leading his men planetside when a Republic commando's assault cannon ripped right through his shields.” He held up a hand when she took in a breath to apologize again, shaking his head minutely. “My family has a long history of being in the military, L'hana. Death dunring service is...expected.” He smiled at her, an old sadness lingering in his gaze that she sensed he'd buried years before.

“He would be proud of you, Malavai,” she said, with a certainty that she knew he couldn't argue with. Still, it took him by surprise, and he laughed a little at her statement.

“Given all the business with Broysc, I had doubt of that for a long time.” L'hana stared out at the storms in the silence that followed, relaxing further into her chair as she willed her mind to briefly get lost in the churning of the clouds and the rain. “Were dates like this on your planet?”

“I-I...what?” His question plucked her out of her reverie, shocking her, and she turned her full attention as heat rose to her skin anew. With a shrug, he poured himself more wine, holding out a hand for her own glass. “I mean, not quite like this, but...why bring that up?”

“Given how the mood was starting to go sour, and we _are_ on a date, is it really that outlandish?”

“You make a fair point.”

“I strive to, always.” He sipped from his glass as he handed hers back to her, full almost to spilling. “Though I have been genuinely concerned that your customs are vastly different and I've been going about this wrong the entire time.”

“Most of us are much more upfront with their intent,” L'hana admitted. “As in, it's not unheard of for one party to approach their intended within hours of having serious feelings for them. There were a lot less words involved.”

“How do you make your intentions known without saying anything to them?!” Malavai asked, nearly spitting out his wine. “Did the man throw a woman over his shoulder and carry her off to have his way with her?!”

“And risk having the woman rip his balls off with her teeth?!” Her laughter, both at the look on Malavai's face and the mental image his question conjured, was loud and wild. A little less restrained, more because she was feeding off of his looser mood now that the wine was beginning to affect him. “We are a wild bunch, Malavai, but not so backwards that we resort to forcing ourselves on a prospective mate.” She stared down into her glass as she mulled over her words, trying to pick the right ones. 

“Picking a partner usually involved more pheromones. Let off enough of them around the individual you wanted to court and wait for them to be affected.” Laughing dryly, L'hana knocked back her wine all in one long draught, pleased at the more lasting warmth that spread throughout her body. “Eventually one or the other gets fed up, and a fight would break out. Either to chase the other off or to prove yourself to each other. Once in front of witnesses, so the courtship became public...and if you both passed out, and wanted things to continue, you ended up going for a tie-breaker after licking your wounds.”

“'Tie-breaker?'”

“More secluded. Away from prying eyes. One moment you're watching them working on a speeder as if the two of you hadn't almost killed each other, the next you're dragging them by their ear into the barn, and then....” She spread her hand out in a vague gesture. “Suddenly the entire night has passed, and you're inseparable.”

“Was there a ceremony?”

“Oh, of course. Hand-fasting, when you manage to tear yourselves away from each other long enough to put your clothes back on. If the clan approves, you're bonded in the compound square, by the clan's First. If not you strike out on your own, find another clan or territory...though that rarely happened.” The snarl of thunder drew her attention away for a time, and she stared into the roiling clouds, the bright and jagged lines of lightning that flashed, and faded. “And you live out your lives with the one you love.”

“...how long...?”

“Seven years.” She blinked, her vision of the storm blurring, and frowned. “I'd known him my whole life. It wasn't until we were both of age that we realized we'd never grown up thinking of each other like siblings. We were friends, for a very long time...and then we realized we couldn't stand a life apart.” 

It wasn't lost on her that the mood had suddenly darkened. All of her thoughts went to him. To her late-husband. It was shocking that, for the first time since he'd died...she truly knew him as her late-husband. Would he have wanted her to languish like this? Would he have wanted her to cling to his memory? The answers were obvious: No and no again. But was she willing to give up holding onto the part of her being that still belonged to him? To the constant thoughts of wondering what could have been? No again.

But there was only the present to be lived in. Experienced however she wanted it to be.

“My apologies,” Malavai said suddenly. His voice held regret, enough to pull her out of her own thoughts, and she turned to find he'd stood, and was offering her his hand. She stood, hesitating in confusion, but apparently that was long enough for him to drop his arm back to his side. “It was not my intention to reopen such a deep wound.”

“Malavai, it's alright,” she said, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve as he moved to turn from her. She stared up at him, that impassive expression back on his features, and frowned. “Leon is gone.” Hearing those words made her pause for a moment; it was jarring to hear herself saying those words. “You asked a question, and I answered...it still hurts, but moping would have just pissed him off.” She huffed and crossed her arms, strangely caught between crying and smirking in begrudging amusement. “Stubborn asshole.”

“Would he approve of this?”

“Not like he can do anything about it,” L'hana said, lifting her chin belligerently. “I still have a pulse, don't I?” Her nerves got the better of her as she reached out again and smoothed the sleeve of Malavai's shirt, watching her fingers on the white cloth. “Thank you for all of this, Malavai.”

“I hope you've enjoyed yourself as much as I have, L'hana,” he said, his voice low and warm. She smirked at him, raising an eyebrow as she took a step closer to him. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of his body, to hear the minute intake of breath from a man who was so rarely caught off guard, and relish in the delight that radiated off of him in waves.

“Why Quinn, if I didn't know you any better, I'd say that was an attempt at a compliment,” she observed, trailing her hand up the length of his arm. Her fingers dragged across the fabric of his vest, one thumb flicking the top button as her eyes glanced at him through her eyelashes.

“More of a romantic overture,” he responded, his gaze intense as it held hers.

“I know you can do better than that, Malavai.”

“Would you like me to try?”

“More than anything.”

She'd laid out the opening for him. Close enough for him to reach out for her, which he did, and pull her close. Which he also did. Though there was enough hesitation in the way his eyes darted from her mouth to her eyes with a question that hung in the air between them. She answered for him, her hands sliding up to bracket his face, leaning up so he didn't have to stoop down.

It was slow, at first. Cautious. Things had built up for so long, longer than was probably normal or bearable. His hands trembled on her lower back, one sliding up to splay between her bare shoulder blades, and the warmth of his palm and fingers made her knees weak. With a groan he pressed in harder, tongue sweeping across the seam of her lips, wet and hot and _begging_ for entrance. Molten heat flooded her, and her fingers slid into his hair, pulling slightly as she--

An alarm went off on the comm-link in Malavai's jacket, making them both jump apart. The alarm continued going off for some time, the two staring at each other in stunned silence, trying to catch their breath. The rueful grimace Malavai wore as he jerkily yanked his jacket off the abandoned chair and searched his pockets spoke volumes for both of them about their interruption.

“Ah.” Malavai sighed heavily after reading the message that had been sent to his datapad. “It appears our replacement for Groman is located on the Imperial fleet and it awaiting pickup.” The sigh he let out was decidedly bitter as he slid the collapsed pad back into his pocket. “We'd better get back on the ship.”

“Do you _always_ have to answer those?” she asked, sighing dramatically as he led her out of the room. Malaval huffed, his own irritation clear.

“The... _incident_ with Broysc set us back by a solid week,” he stated, and L'hana winced. She'd read the report just before leaving the ship for the evening. She was expected on a handful of planets to speak with Baras's myriad of contacts, either to dispose of them or rebuild broken bonds. They were needed elsewhere, to ensure that more lives weren't lost. “Still,” Malavai said, drawing her back to the present, “I'm glad we had tonight.” L'hana was on the verge of echoing him when he kissed her again, more chaste and brief than before. When he pulled away, she slowly came back to reality, and it wasn't until she'd made it back to her quarters that she realized he'd smoothed his jacket over her shoulders.

“Is that Quinn's?” Vette's voice, coming from a tangle of sheets and blankets in the bunk she and Jaesa had been dozing on, made her aware the room wasn't empty. Her friend's green eyes were alive with questions, until she finally settled on one. “How was it?!”

“It was wonderful,” L'hana said, her voice low and wistful. She bit her lip, covering her face in her hands as she blushed deeply, unable to hold back a fit of laughter that ended with her flopping back onto the bunk her friends occupied. The night waned on, as L'hana recounted (mostly) everything that had transpired.

She couldn't remember when she'd felt more alive.


End file.
